


Save File Corrupted

by greenful



Category: Assassination Classroom
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Bullying, Gen, Hurt, INDEFINITE HIATUS, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Thoughts of Self-harm, Unfinished, unintentional self-harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2018-10-29 18:10:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10859334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenful/pseuds/greenful
Summary: Nagisa Shiota is aware that his mother is living vicariously through him. To her Nagisa is like the New Game Plus for the RPG of her life. But to be treated like that for one's entire life leaves a mark. A look into just how Nagisa has been affected by his mother's treatment of him. *UNFINISHED* *ON INDEFINITE HIATUS*





	1. The Daily Routine

**Author's Note:**

> First time doing a multi-chapter fic like this. Sure hope I can muster the self-control to update regularly, etc. Kudos and Comments are greatly appreciated!

I’m walking home from school. I should be fine. What I should be feeling is a glowing warmth, the joy that comes from an enjoyable vacation with friends. We of the E class just finished our vacation at Okinawa, I should not feel how I do. I should feel the routine disappointment of getting so close to finally assassinating Koro-Sensei, mixed with the comfort of hearing his praise for a job so nearly successful. Those are the feelings I should have.

  
But I can’t find those feelings within me. I know they should be there, but I can’t find them. All I can think of is what happened at the bar on Okinawa. I’m sure no one meant any harm by it, but that doesn’t mean that no harm was done. Having that pile of clothes shoved at me, being forced to change in the middle of such a dangerous mission, it’s all I can think about.

  
I keep hearing their jokes, Karma insisting I should just “cut it off”. I keep seeing that one guy in the bar that kept hitting on me. I was so helpless. I shouldn’t have felt that way, I’m a trained assassin. But no. I knew mentally that I was capable of defending myself, but I couldn’t muster the courage. All my experience, my training, was all drained out of me as soon as I was forced into those clothes.

  
On one level I’m just ashamed of myself. Why should wearing the clothes of the other gender make me feel so vulnerable? I’ve seen so many women in my life that are so powerful, definitely more so than me. It was the girls I was supposed to protect who ended up protecting me in the bar.

  
But on the other hand, that is not who I am. I am not, and never will be a girl. It’s funny how the clothes you wear inform your identity. It made me so uncomfortable. The skirt, always just one gust of wind away from total exposure. Being able to feel a room full of people staring at me. But not all of me. They look to the spots which will get them off. The chest, to see what I’ve got going on there. The exposed flesh of my thighs between where the skirts stops and the leggings start.

  
It’s depressing to know that the most attractive version of me is the one I’ll never want. Put me in a skirt, and the world adores me. Put me in a skirt, and my mom will tolerate me. When I’m a guy, no one notices or tries to care about me. When I’m a guy, my mom beats me down. I’m so stupid. The only way to make everyone else happy makes me unhappy. Why am I so selfish? Why can’t I just get over myself? I’m worthless.

  
I’m nearly to my house before I notice the pain in my hands. I look at them, confused. They’re cut up with nail marks. My fingers are bloody. Damn it. My mom can’t see me like this. She’ll worry or she’ll hurt me. I don’t want either of those to happen. I’ll just keep my hands closed, wash them as soon as I get in. Then she won’t find out, right? Right? It’ll be fine, there’s nothing to worry about, it’s all fine.

  
I knock on the door. “Come in!” she calls. Like everything’s fine, like we’re the perfect family, like I’m not afraid every second I’m in that house. Then I come in. Like everything’s fine. “Oh, Nagisa, look at you! You’re all salty!” she says. “Yeah, I swam a lot at Okinawa.” I reply. “Well, clean yourself up. I only want the best from you, dear.” “Sure thing, mom.” I head to the shower.

  
It’s a daily routine. I get home from school, or wherever I’ve been out to on the weekends, and clean myself. I walk a fine line when I do. The water must be incredibly hot, for the best cleaning to occur, as she accepts nothing but the best from me. But she will not allow me to damage my “perfect” skin, so I can’t scald myself with its heat. I have to clean myself thoroughly, meticulously. But I can’t spend too long. She doesn’t like to wait for the next part of our routine to begin.

  
I come out of the shower, and see what is always there when I’m done. A white towel, and white female undergarments. As invasive, and controlling as my mother is, at least she lets me wear something for this next part. I hate how well they fit my body. I call her, let her know that I’m ready. She comes in with shaving cream and a razor.

  
She doesn’t let me shave. She wants to do that herself. The fact that my body grows hair is a reminder to her of the disappointment that I am, a male child. She opts to shave me herself, as a way of proving to herself that she’s in control. Of herself, and of me.

  
She sits on a stool, impeccable posture, beckons me to sit on her lap. It’s always embarrassing, to be forced into such a childish position, but I still obey. I elongate one leg so it rests on the bathtub, so all of it can be shaved.

  
She looks at my legs, then sighs with disappointment. “Nagisa, dear, they’ve gotten so stubbly.” I avert my eyes, not wanting to look into hers. “Yeah, they have,” I whisper. She clicks her tongue at me. “Ah well, Nagisa. What would you do without me?”

  
She goes to start spreading the shaving cream, and I manage to keep myself from flinching. The gentle touch she uses is deceptive. The first time we went through this, I couldn’t keep myself still, and that… hadn’t ended well for me. At the first sign of discomfort or resistance, she would dig her fingernails into my skin, and scream “Don’t you want this? Won’t you let your mother be happy?” Since then I’ve learned to keep better control of myself.

  
That said, I can’t help my eyes from watering as I see the razor slide across my skin. It’s a smooth painless shave, that’s not the issue. I had actually gotten attached to the two-day’s growth of hair. I know it’s silly to get so emotional over leg hair, but to me it was proof of my masculinity, a sign of the y chromosome my mother would rather keep hidden.

  
She doesn’t want to miss any spot. She shaves even the parts nobody but us will ever see. My stomach turns as she forces my legs apart, spreading them so she can get the razor all the way up my inner thighs. She only stops just at the point the fabric of the undergarments cover my skin.

  
She lays down the razor, and runs her hand across my face. “You didn’t even shave your face at Okinawa? How slovenly.” I bite my tongue to keep myself from arguing with her, she would have gotten mad at me if I had shaved then too. She would have accused me of taking matters into my own hands, and not letting her do what she wished.

  
I lean my head back, stretching my neck so she can get at all of it. After applying the cream, she starts shaving my face and neck. She cups my head in one arm, in a hold that would be reassuring, if it weren’t for the memories which run through my mind of her using that same grip to pull on my hair to keep my head still. But still I keep my breathing even, despite the knowledge that she holds a bladed object, and she could at any moment decide she’d had enough of her disappointment of a child, and end me. But she doesn’t. She never does. We finish this part of the routine with her spreading moisturizer over all the places she shaved me. All of them.

  
That’s just the first part of our “grooming” session. She brushes my hair, she says, “Girls your age always look better with longer hair,” and it takes all my strength not to respond “But I’m not a girl.” She reveals some clothes, what could be considered a cute outfit. A pink dress, the colour obviously selected for the connection between pink and femininity. She helps me put it on. It’s modest, going well past the knees. Despite how much it covers, I still feel naked.

  
She takes my face, holds it still with one hand. With the other she applies makeup. Nothing excessive: foundation, concealer, eyeliner, mascara. She’s quick at it, too. It’s mere moments before she turns me toward the mirror. I do not see myself reflected back at me. All I see is my mother and a beautiful girl. She is familiar, but seeing her makes me uncomfortable. My mother sighs. “Now, this is what the perfect family looks like.” She says that every time.  
And, like every time we go through this, she sets up the family camera on a timer, and the our picture is taken. I have always been camera shy, and being photographed in such a state has not helped that much. But still I keep myself from outward discomfort. I know the consequences if I don’t.

  
She spends minutes inspecting me. She muses about how she wished I was biologically female, how that would be the final piece of our perfect lives. I never talk during this part. She’s not interested in my thoughts or anything I have to say. If I said anything at all, it would just take her out of her vicarious living through me.

  
“This has been good, Nagisa. I look forward to the next time we can do this together.” She smiles and goes to her room. She never helps clean me up. That would remove her from the immersion of her New Game Plus. It would hurt her to take apart the artwork she’d just finished creating. So I’m left on my own to remove the makeup, and get changed into my own clothes. The privacy is welcome, but being left alone in this state is anything but good for my psyche.

  
I cry as I change. No sobs or sound of any kind. Then she’d know something’s wrong. Instead I just let the tears run down my face. I don’t even wipe them off, I just let them fall. There’s no one to see, and no one who cares. I’m left alone with my tears and my thoughts. As I always am.


	2. A New Dynamic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks for all the reads, kudos, bookmarks, and comments! Here's the next chapter after that lengthy wait. Hope you enjoy! Comments and Kudos greatly appreciated.

First day back at school after the eventful trip to Okinawa. Walking up the winding wilderness trail to the E-Class building, it gives me time to think. Which is not something I always want.

Earlier today I wasn’t worried about how school would go. I was just in autopilot, living life as it usually goes. But on this long walk up to the building, I have time to contemplate what the day will look like. Because school won’t be as it was before. Whether the others know it or not, they’ve seen me at one of my lowest moments.

I dig my fingernails into my hands, trying to use the pain to get my mind off the subject of what I did on the mission. What happened isn’t what matters, at least not at the moment. What matters right now is that the rest of the class is aware of what happened.

Now, I love the E-Class. I’d rather be with them than any other class in the world. But no one knows just what an effect their words can have, not fully. I’m not even at the building yet, but in my mind I can already hear Rio snickering when she sees me, I can already see Karma showing everyone the pictures he took. My mind’s eye shows me a classroom full of people laughing and jeering, and I know it’s an unfounded, baseless fear, because I know they’re all such wonderful people, but even the kindest of people hurt others, even accidentally.

But I manage to push those thoughts out of the forefront of my mind, because there’s Karma, at the end of the trail. He waves, says “Hey, Nagisa! Didn’t think I’d ever beat you to school!”

I open my hand, I’m about to wave, but I look at my palm. I see what almost look like scars on my palms. Must be from last night. They’re red, obviously hurt, but not bleeding. Again, hadn’t noticed. Anyway, can’t have Karma noticing. He’d either make an off-colour joke, or use it against me sometime in the future. We’re good friends, but because of that I know him better than to show him something that could give him a leg up on me like that.

So, instead of waving back, I opt to just do that head nod thing of acknowledgement. “Guess I was just a bit lazy this morning, Karma.” Not quite true. I’d gone to sleep too soon last night. Well, I say gone to sleep. I’d gone to bed too soon. I didn’t sleep for a while. It’s always hard to do after those sessions with mom. Anyway, I went to bed with some makeup still on. My fault for not noticing. Can’t I do anything right? So I had to spend time this morning scrubbing it off. It’s so much harder to remove when you leave it on overnight. It’s such a simple thing to remember, how could I have forgotten to just clean it off last night?

“Well, class starts in like, five minutes, so you better get it in gear.” He turns around. “I’ll see you in class.”

“Yeah, see you.” I reply. And now I’m late. I really am worthless, aren’t I? I try to push that thought aside, though. It’s not going to help me get to class on time.

I manage to enter the classroom just as Koro-Sensei calls my name for attendance. Lucky me. “Cutting it rather close, aren’t you, Nagisa?”

“Sorry, Koro-Sensei.”

“Not to worry, Nagisa. Just find your way to your seat, okay? Make sure you’re not late again, though. A good assassin is always on time! Nurufufufu!”

“It won’t happen again.” I bow at the hip in front of him, as a sign of my apology. Before he can continue attendance, I take a quick swipe at him with the anti-Sensei knife. He dodges easily. I shrug. “Worth a shot!” Then I take my seat.

Despite a rough start to the day, class goes reasonably well. Showing up late had actually been slightly on purpose. Before school there’s always so much socializing. I just didn’t want to have to deal with the possibility of people mentioning what happened at the bar on Okinawa to me, first thing back at school. If I prepare myself during the first few classes of the day, I may just be ready for the others to start talking about it. Hopefully.

Math class is draining, but not so much on my emotional health. By the end of the period, I feel like there’s smoke pouring out of my ears. I wasn’t that bad at math before they decided to inject the alphabet into it. Whoever came up with that concept is a crueller person than any assassin I’ve met.

Literature class is way better. I’ve always enjoyed throwing myself into stories, and reading the classics is just doing that. Maybe it’s a bit tougher (a lot tougher) than reading light novels or manga, but what can you do?

Our last class before lunch break is history. We’re covering the Taika reforms right now. It’s tough to remember when they took place, but trust Koro-Sensei to make it easier. “Taika alive in 645”. Just say that rhyme, and you’ll always remember that the Taika reforms took place in the year 645 AD. He’s a great teacher.

The triumphant feeling of completing a worksheet just as the lunch bell rings is a great experience. “Okay students, take your lunch break. A good assassin eats good nutrients, so take this time to energize yourselves for the rest of the day.” With that, Koro-Sensei slithered his way out of the class, to his office. That’s when I feel an overwhelming sense of foreboding, and I turn around.

Karma and Rio. I guess trying to distract myself from my worries had worked. I’d been too busy doing the schoolwork to even think about what these two might say. I take a deep breath, and steel myself for what’s to come.

“Hey, Nagisa, how’s it going? You’ve been pretty quiet today.” Karma says.

“Emphasis on the _pretty_.” Rio snickers. I wince internally, don’t let it show.

“Oh, I’ve been fine. Just been pretty tired after the Okinawa trip.” I try to give as neutral of an answer as possible. No use bothering them over nothing.

“Tired, eh?” Rio pulls out her phone. I roll my eyes. I know where this is going. “You haven’t been having late nights with your new boyfriend, have you?” She shows me a picture she took at the bar of me and Yuji. She put a pink, glittery filter over it, and drew a heart around me and Yuji.

“Rio, I hardly even know him, why must you aggressively ship me with him? Not sure if you forgot, but I am a guy, you know.” I’ve had so much practice keeping myself calm, it’s second nature. I can’t believe she took pictures. I’m so uncomfortable with cameras, even in the best of times. She couldn’t know that, I’ve never told anyone, but I can’t believe there’s a picture of me in that outfit. It’s so wrong. Looking at it is causing a physical pain in my chest. But despite all that, I keep my face even, throwing in a slight exasperated chuckle. “Sheesh, I can’t even picture myself with a girlfriend, let alone a boyfriend, so I just don’t get it.” Friendly banter is what they want. I’ll give it to them. They don’t mean to hurt me, so why let them know that they have?

“Ooooh, so Nagisa can’t picture himself with a boyfriend, can he? Is it maybe just because you don’t have to picture it anymore?” Karma says, winking.

“C’mon, guys, give him a break. That whole ordeal was a bad time for him. Maybe don’t bring up something like that so nonchalantly, okay?” Kaede says, appearing suddenly. On the inside, I’m so grateful for the escape route she’s provided for me. I could just take it and leave this conversation. But that would bother the others. I wouldn’t want to do that to them. No one likes having their fun stamped out, so It’s probably just better for me to let them continue. It doesn’t hurt that bad, I can’t let it hurt that bad while others are around.

“No, it’s fine. It’s just playful banter.” I manage to say, and no one can tell anything is wrong.

“Well, if you say so.” Kaede shrugs. Fortunately enough though, they don’t have many other jokes on the subject, so Karma and Rio turn to other topics.

I can’t believe that ended so quickly. I want to be able to pay attention to what they’re saying, they are my friends, after all. But I can’t focus, all I can hear is the breath coming in and out of my lungs, and how sore my hands are.

I look down. I’d been clenching them again. My muscles are tired, that’s why they’re sore. It’s only after looking at them that I also feel the sting of the nail-shaped marks on there. They’re deep imprints, but no blood. I close my fists again, careful to ensure the flesh of my fingers is what is contacting the palm, not the nails. I do it so no one can see what’s happened to my palms. They wouldn’t notice anyway, but I still do it. Just in case. I breathe in, squeeze them, hold my breath, and slowly let go as I breathe out. Fortunately, I manage to do all this in a quiet manner, calm, so no one can tell anything’s wrong. I’m even somehow capable of smiling and nodding as they carry on with their conversation. Fine.

I haven’t even touched my lunch by the time Koro-Sensei returns at the end of the break. It’s fine. I wasn’t hungry.

“Alright, students. I hope you enjoyed your lunch break! Now it’s time for biology class.” There was a resounding rustle throughout the class, as everyone got out their notes. “Continuing our unit on systems of the body, we will be discussing…” He took a dramatic pause. “The reproductive system!” There was a moment of absolute silence in the classroom. The momentary silence before the storm.

Karma was the first to say anything. “Well, that would be your favourite, wouldn’t it, Sensei?”

“Er… I don’t know what you’re talking about Karma…” Koro-Sensei stammered. His face turned blue, and he began to visibly sweat.

“Oh, get over yourself! You are such a perv, and you can’t deny it!” Rio chimed in. Koro-Sensei tensed up, he knew where this was headed. The class started to get pretty rowdy. Kids were talking, one of them even started looting through Koro-Sensei’s desk for XXX materials. It was a mess.

“Hey, kids.” Karasuma walked into the room. Absolute silence. “I understand that this is probably hilarious to you. And I get it. Believe it or not, I was a kid once, too. But it’s something you’ve got to learn about sometime or other.” He paused. “The better you all pay attention, the sooner the unit will be over, and we can all stop feeling so uncomfortable.” There was a reluctant murmur of assent. “Good. Koro-Sensei, do your thing.” And then he left.

“Now then, students.” Koro-Sensei began. “Before we get into the actual biology of the system, I think it is worth going over the mental side of the subject.” He paused. “Human sexuality is… complicated. And while I’m sure many of you are well aware of some of the particulars, we should definitely go over it, so everyone is on the same page.”

He revealed a chart of an androgynous silhouette. Its head, heart, and genital region were highlighted. “There are three main components.” He pointed to the crotch. “Biological sex.” He pointed to the head. “Gender identity.” Then the heart. “Romantic/Sexual orientation. Everybody following so far?”

As everyone else nodded, showing their understanding, I felt my insides start to twist.

“Now, the biological sex is potentially the simplest part, but even then there’s great complexity. It tends to be binary, either biologically male or female, but there are instances to the contrary as well. For example, being intersex. In such cases, the genitalia may not match the chromosomes, or perhaps an individual may have parts of  both sets of genitalia. And that’s the ‘simple’ part of it.”

I cross my legs. I fold my arms. I want this to stop. I bite my tongue. I clench my hands. All I can think about is my mother, how I disappointed her just by being born with the wrong body. I keep hearing her complain that I’m male. As she should. She doesn’t deserve to have such a worthless child.

“Now we get more complex. One’s gender identity does not necessarily match one’s biological sex. One may be biologically female, yet identify as male. In times like this, it can be very uncomfortable for this person to be called female, or for people to use the wrong pronouns referring to him.”

He kept talking, but I couldn’t listen anymore. Too close to home. I see myself forced to crossdress, my mother playing with me like a living doll. I hear Karma telling me to take a trip to Thailand, so I can get the surgery easier.

I know the class will give me hell. As hard as Koro-Sensei is trying to teach this class acceptance, to open their minds to this subject, I know it will end badly. I know they’ll joke, tell me it’s okay to come out as identifying as female. The opposite is true. Everyone around tries to classify me as female, despite the fact I know I’m not.

I have to leave. I’m shaking, I can’t get these images out of my mind, I keep living through that routine my mom forces me to do. All the feelings of fear, anxiety, dysphoria, that I had tried to bury come flooding back. My heart’s pounding, I hear the roar of blood in my ears.

“Koro-Sensei, I’m feeling sick. May I leave?” I manage to say, even though my throat is dry, and my tongue feels stuck to the roof of my mouth.

“Certainly, Nagisa. Just remember to get caught up on the material for when you return to school.” Koro-Sensei says, and before he’s even back on track in the lesson, I’m out of the room.

They’re probably laughing at me. They think I’m weak, I can’t handle anything. Of course they do. Because I can’t. I want to go home, but I know I can’t make it. A panic attack? Really? That’s so stupid, why can’t I just get over this?

I need to hide. No one can see me like this. If someone else found out, who knows how much they could hurt me with knowledge like this. Given how much they hurt me unknowingly, imagine how much more they could on purpose.

I duck into the bathroom, open a stall, and lock myself in. Sit down. There. Now it’s just me here. Me and my thoughts. My scattered, disjointed, neurotic, chaotic thoughts. I try to stop thinking about things, and focus on my body, the physical.

My body is tensing up, my breathing is shallow, my hands are clenched, and I can’t open them. I close my eyes, try to just _breathe_ , but there’s just not enough air. My mouth is dry, but I swallow hard, just for an action that I can take, and my throat hurts. My head hurts. My chest hurts. My stomach hurts. My hands hurt.

And so I wait. I wait as seconds turn to minutes, and to hours, waiting until I can finally breathe again.


	3. A Late Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long wait guys, Grade 12 was murdering me (figuratively). But now, school's out for the summer, and I actually have time to write. Hopefully there'll be more frequent updates in the future. Thanks again for all those who have read, left Kudos, and written comments. I appreciate you guys so much, and you inspire me to keep writing this. I'm glad you enjoy these children suffering as much as I do. Comments and Kudos are always appreciated!

            I wake up. How long was I asleep? Damn it, how could I let myself just do that? Is school over? I go to get my phone out of my pocket, but wait a second. Why are my hands like this? I look down at them.

            They’re sticky with blood. My body tenses up. Did I do this? To myself? On purpose? My hands are shaking. I manage to get up, unlock the bathroom stall, and go to the sink.

            I see myself in the mirror. I look like a mess. I turn my attention to the faucet, turn on the water, start washing my hands. Just rinsing the blood off. They’re not thoroughly coated, but it’s in my fingernails, and all over the palms.

When the blood is mostly rinsed off, I can see the actual cuts. They had mostly dried, stopped bleeding. Washing my hands had kind of undone that. But they’re not gushing blood, more just oozing. I can take care of that with just paper towels, or tissues. But what time is it? That’s the question.

I gingerly get my phone from my pocket, careful not to let any blood get on my clothes. I check the time. 18:34. My breath stops. Mom’s always so angry when I’m home late. And what kind of excuse am I going to give? “Oh, sorry I’m late to get home, mom. I just had a panic attack and lost an unknown quantity of blood from digging my fingernails into my hands.” That will totally work.

I go to my locker, and try to get my belongings from it quietly. And as good as I am at making myself disappear, Koro-Sensei still manages to notice me. As soon as I see him I work to erase all the tension on my face.

“Hello, Nagisa. You’re here a bit late, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, sorry. Got sick in the bathroom, fell asleep. I’m fine now though.” I tilt my head, give a small smile. Go for the cute, innocent, pure aesthetic. Nobody needs to know anything was wrong.

“Well, it’s a good thing I caught you before you left. I need to give you your notes that you missed today.” He hands me a small stack of papers. “And Nagisa, if you’re ever uncomfortable in my class, feel free to leave anytime. I won’t get mad. The last thing I want is for my students to be uncomfortable in my class.”

I freeze. I mentally go through the list of all the possible things I could say to deflect away from me being so stupid and thin-skinned that I couldn’t sit through one class about gender identity. A dozen different excuses die in my throat before I just say “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“No problem at all, Nagisa. Do you think you’ll be feeling better tomorrow?”

“Yeah, it’s not a big deal. I should be fine.” I put the notes in my bag, and sling it over my shoulder. “Thanks again.” I say, before heading out.

There’s only a few more trains before they go off for the night. I’ll almost definitely catch them, but I can’t afford to go too slowly. I’m not quite running through the forest back to the main campus, but I’m definitely jogging. I’m just so tired. My body feels like it’s gone through so much intense work today, but all I’ve done is walk to school and collapse in the bathroom. Good for me.

I can start to feel the blood pumping. I do anytime I’m exerting myself, and it’s usually rather rewarding. But now it’s just a relentless drumming in my ears. I also feel an uncomfortable pressure in my palms, where I punctured them. Each heartbeat makes me wince as I feel a stabbing pain in my fresh wounds. But I can’t slow down, I just have to make it home.

I briefly consider phoning mom. She probably wants to know where I am, if I’m safe, why I’m not home yet, stuff like that. But I don’t know how she’ll feel about it. It’s like I have two different moms, one who’s so sweet and gentle and kind, and just wants to know where her poor child is. But the other is livid I haven’t called, and will hate me no matter what I end up doing. And I won’t know which she is until I get home. So, the best thing to do is just wait until I’m home, and gauge the best course of action once I get there.

As much of a hurry as I’m in, it’s still hard not to appreciate the beauty in the trail down from E-Class. The trees, birds, flowers, all coexisting and thriving. Each one knows who they are, what they are, and what they are meant to do. No tree is forced into being something it knows it isn’t. They just exist. Even though it’s getting a little late, the sun’s still out, and the light filtering through the foliage gives everything a green tinge. It’s nice. Relaxing.

But then my feet start landing on asphalt instead of the cool, soft, grassy ground of the trail. I’m pulled out of my calm respite, and into the rest of the world. The main campus is here. Train station’s not far off. There’s no one around the campus still, but there will be on the train. I should be used to it by now: the sideways glances, the double takes, the not-so-subtle ogling. I can usually manage to shrug it off, but I’m more than a little out of it.

At the station. I swipe my card, get on the train. Sit down, cross legs, fold arms. Look down. I can feel eyes on me. Don’t make eye contact. It’ll just encourage them. If I don’t see them looking, I won’t know if they are. Then the only thing I need to worry about is my own messed up perception of myself, not anyone else’s messed up perceptions of me.

The seat is hard and cold. The sterile, electric light beats down, and washes out the already dismal surroundings. I can hear the wind rushing past the train. The whole atmosphere is claustrophobic. The air tastes stale. All I can do is wait until I reach my stop. Then when I get home, I’ll wait for my mom to stop doing whatever she wants with me. Then I’ll wait until I can finally manage to fall asleep. It’s all I can do. All I ever will. Can’t I just actually do something for once?

The train eventually stops. It’s my station. I manage to get up, look around. Everyone’s looked away from me. I can tell they were staring. What’s that girl doing in a guy’s uniform? I need to get off the train before I suffocate.

Off the train, I take a deep breath of the fresher air. It’s only a short walk to my house. I’ll want to be ready for when my mom starts attacking me.

What kind of child am I? Can’t I even get home on time? How hard is that to do? I usually can. I know why I couldn’t. Useless screw-up that I am, I had a panic attack at school. Of course. Why couldn’t I just keep it in? I can always manage to keep calm, at least on the outside. But no, today I had to go and freak out like that. Not only did I let myself lose it like that, but then I go to the bathroom and collapse? What’s wrong with me? And the cuts on my palms, there’s no way mom won’t see those. I’ve spent my life learning to control my behaviour. Why now is the one thing I’m good at, concealing my feelings, now something I can’t grasp?

I can feel my body tensing up, but I try with all my willpower to make it relax. I won’t get anywhere all rigid like that. If I want to get home sooner, I just need to let my body act as it normally does.

And sure enough, I’m already on my street. The house is right there. I knock on the door, say “I’m home.” No response. She always responds. My stomach is twisted in knots. I don’t know which mother will greet me today. Hands shaking, I open the door.

She’s not at the entrance. Is she even home? I’m not sure which would be better. If she’s just out, she might not know that I’m late, and if she doesn’t show up until later, I might not have to go through that routine she always forces me through. But if she’s not home, then where is she? Is she hurt? Did she get into an accident, did something happen to her?

Why do I care what happened to her? She makes me miserable right? But she’s my mother. She raised me, she cares for me. It’s not her fault her child is so worthless that it couldn’t even be the right gender for her. “Mom?” I call out.

“In the kitchen, Nagisa.” It’s clear in her tone of voice that she wants me to go there. Immediately.

I’m frozen. Why would I think things like that around her? She’s right here, just in the other room. Why would I wish she wasn’t here? That’s so stupid. She’s at home, and that’s what I should want, right? She can probably tell something’s wrong. She probably knows I thought bad stuff about her. She probably hates me. That makes sense. Who wouldn’t?

I don’t want to go, I’m so scared. But my legs take me. I walk into the kitchen, legs shaking, looking like the mess that I am. Why can’t I just look like everything’s fine?

“You’re home late, Nagisa.”

“Sorry. I got sick at school. Only just made it home now.”

“And you didn’t call me? I could have taken care of you better than whatever they did for you there. I care for you every day, and all you do is try to take advantage of me.”

My stomach sinks. I know what’s coming.

“I’m so sorry, mom. Please forgive me.”

“Maybe if my son cared the slightest bit about me, I’d be inclined to. But you’re just worthless. To your room.”

I want to obey her, go to my room. I want to stay, defend myself. I know what each path leads to. Regardless, I stay.

“Mom, I just - ” I start to speak. She doesn’t let me finish.

A dull thud reaches my ears. I’m on the ground, looking up at her. I can’t even process the pain, I just can’t move. “To your room. Feel free to leave when you decide to start respecting me.”

Tears in my eyes. I try to mumble an apology, but there’s no air. The wind is knocked out of me. I can’t stand up, but I manage to crawl away. The trip to my room which normally only takes seconds takes me minutes.

Lying on my bed. I want to just disappear. It’s my fault I feel like this. If I’d just calmed down at school, none of this would have happened. Or beyond that, if I could just get rid of all my identity issues. That would have solved all this just as easily. Or I could have been born the right gender at birth. Why couldn’t it have happened like that? There’d be no problems, everything would be alright.

I look at my desk. It actually brings fond memories. Despite what happened at school today, I truly enjoy the friends I’ve made there. They’re too good for me. I don’t deserve to know them. It’s still nice to have met them though.

I’m just scanning the desk, looking for something interesting. The cup filled with pens and pencils, the ruler listing all the periods of Japan’s history, the sheets of loose-leaf paper waiting to be written upon. All this is interesting, but what I look at is the pencil sharpener.

I once read on the internet that the blade in a pencil sharpener can be removed as simply as with a screwdriver. I don’t have one on me. The blade can get sharp, too. It has to be to cut through wood the way it does. Without meaning to, I think about what it would feel like to get cut by it.

Would it be smooth, glide across my arm? Or rough, jagged, stopping and starting, jerking through the skin? How deep would it go? Surface wound, or damaging muscle? I know what an injury looks like, I’ve been reading up on assassination. I just don’t know what it would cause. Probably the pencil sharpener’s dinky blade could do either, depending on what its wielder decided to do with it.

What I decide to do with it.

I go to sleep with the image of a razor blade sinking into my arm stuck in my head, like a song that keeps repeating. I don’t know why I would do it, and I don’t think I ever could. But the thought’s still there.


	4. A Return to the Norm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry this update took a bit longer than expected. Things came up. But this chapter's here now, so hopefully the wait was worth it! Also, if you're interested, I have a tumblr that you guys can check out, if that's what you're into at https://its-greenful.tumblr.com/ You can ask questions, and stuff, or whatever tumblr's even for. Hoping to get more chapters coming your way soon! Kudos and comments are so appreciated!

After a rough sleep, I’m finally awake. I feel a persistent pain in my torso. I go to the bathroom, check it in the mirror. There’s a purple splotch right above my navel. I wash up, get ready for the day. I hope with all my heart that mom will be feeling better than she was yesterday. Of course, it’s my fault she was so upset last night, and I’m the only one to blame, but I don’t think I can be faulted for wanting things to be different. Yes I can.

  
I head to the kitchen. Mom’s there, reading the newspaper and drinking a cup of coffee. I’m torn between waiting for her to make the first attempt at interaction and letting myself start the conversation with her. I unconsciously start creating a sort of battle plan, a road map for the different ways the conversation could go.

  
If I start the conversation, she might think that I’m being too forward, that I’m out of line. She might think I didn’t learn my lesson from last night, that I should follow her rule absolutely, and that I shouldn’t deviate from the path she wants from me. That would be terrible.

  
But on the other hand, if I don’t initiate the conversation, she might think I’m ignoring her. She might think I’m not sorry about last night, that I’m avoiding an apology for my inexcusable behaviour. So that’s also a no-go.

I once heard someone say that it is better to act and regret it than to not act and always wonder what would have happened if you hadn’t. I don’t personally think that’s a good model for making decisions, but I can’t think of what is best to do here, so I grasp at straws, and this is the only one that comes up.

“Good morning, mom. I’m sorry about last night. It won’t happen again. I’ll let you know when I’ll be home as soon as I know I might be home late. And I’ll make sure you’re the first to know when I’m not feeling well. Okay?”

She keeps me in suspense as I wait for her to respond. Finally, she looks up from her newspaper and says “Eat. You’ll be late for school.” Then she goes back to reading. I can tell she doesn’t want to talk beyond that, and today I think I’m okay with that.

I eat quickly, and head to school. We never were a very conversational family, so I’m not missing out on much because of how short she’s being with me. But I do look forward to the day I can go back to entering her presence without worrying about getting beaten up.

School today is fine. There are moments where people ask me how I am, if I’m feeling better, if I’m still sick. I’m caught off guard the first few times. But If nothing else, I’m gotten pretty good at lying by now. By the time the fourth person asks, I’ve gotten it down to a few concise phrases: “Oh, it was just a little bug, I’m mostly over it now. Just got a bit of a stomach ache left over. I’m fine.” I once heard that the key to a convincing lie is to infuse a little of the truth into it. And my stomach still hurts. My mom has a lot of strength for having such a small figure. Of course, I’m even shorter than her, and likely not as strong. Another check to my mental list of how I’ve been a disappointment.

I consider myself lucky. Not in general, but in regards to this: things at school are basically the same. All I have to do is just repeat the same lie, and nobody suspects anything. Maybe I was a bit too short with myself yesterday. I can pretend things are fine pretty well. Nobody can tell all.

Thinking about all this has kept me pretty busy all day. School ends and I’m immediately ready to get home. I don’t want anything bad to happen to make me late, especially just after apologizing to mom last night. But just as I’m leaving the school, I’m interrupted.

“Hey, Nagisa. You’ve been pretty quiet today. You good?” It’s Karma. I tense up. I don’t look at him yet, just continue walking. If he really wants to talk, he’ll follow me. I’m worried. Is he going somewhere with this? Going to make fun of me for yesterday? I told him I was sick, did he not believe me? Does he know what’s up? Did I not lie well enough?

“I’m usually quiet, if you didn’t notice.” I keep the answer neutral. If he’s serious, I’m responding the right way. If he’s going to make a joke at my expense, I can maneuver what I just said into a joke as well. Hopefully this goes well. Keep walking. Thanks to the forest, I’ve got a while to go.

“No, but more so. Everything okay?” I dare to look at him.

Eye contact is dangerous. It allows for a deeper connection in conversation, lets you read people better. But it also means they can read you better. The slightest twitch of the eye can betray your true emotional state. But I think I can handle it at the moment.

Eyebrows slightly arched, eyes similarly widened. It’s subtle, but evident. His lips are just barely pursed, tight together. Either he’s genuinely concerned, or he’s gotten as good at faking emotions as I have. I’ll hear him out. I don’t think he’ll hurt me. Definitely not on purpose, at least. Time to respond.

“It’s nothing. I’m just bouncing back from yesterday. Still got a stomach-ache. I’ll get better. It’s fine.” I give a smile. I try to make it convincing, but I can feel it come out a bit strained.

  
“Well, you’ve just seemed a little down recently. I was wondering if you wanted to hang out sometime, or something.” Might as well see where he’s going with this. It’s been a while since the two of us have hung out, and some good might come of it.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Well, the new Sonic Ninja movie is coming out this weekend. It was pretty fun going to see the last one together, so I thought you might like to see this one.”

“I mean, odds are Koro-Sensei probably won’t be taking us to Hawaii this time, but it sounds like fun.” I let myself smile. It does sound fun.

“Yeah, I’m so glad the studio decided to release this one in Japan as well. I guess even the idiots in charge of localization noticed how big sales for the digital copy were here in Japan.” Karma gestures as he says all this, in the way he usually does when he’s mockingly irritated, but not actually angry. I notice things about people all the time, and that’s something I’ve noticed about Karma that I just enjoy.

“I’m actually pretty excited about this. I’ll let you know as soon as I can if I can make it this weekend.” I should let him know that I might not be able to make it, despite how much I want to be a part of it. After all, I never know what my mom might or might not allow.

“Why wouldn’t you be able to?” Damn. I shouldn’t have said anything. He looks so concerned. About me of all people. Oh, probably because I might ruin his plans. That makes much more sense. He wouldn’t have any reason to really care about me. No one would. But what do I tell him?

“Oh, my mom’s just a little bit strict. She’ll probably let me go though, so it’s probably fine. Just thought you should know in advance, just in case.” There, I said it. But I don’t think I mentioned my mom in a weird way, which is good. Lots of people have strict moms, right? I’m not singling myself out, am I? I didn’t mess up, right? I can’t take it back if I did, so I better not have said anything wrong. Wouldn’t be surprised if I had though. Idiot.

“Okay. Just let me know.” That’s all he says. I just barely let out the smallest sigh of relief. I didn’t mess up.

The two of us walk to the train station at the main campus together. After walking home alone the past few days, it’s actually quite nice to have someone physically present. We don’t say much to each other for the rest of the walk. Just a little bit of small talk, really. Just being around each other is enough.

But, just as all good things must eventually come to a close, we eventually get to the train station. He takes his train, I take mine. I have to go the rest of the way home myself, which gives me plenty of time to think about what comes next.

I don’t know how to ask mom about this weekend. I don’t know if she’s still mad about last night, or if she’s over it by now. She might be mad at me for no reason anyway, so I might get hurt for talking to her anyway. But maybe. Maybe she’ll let me go.

But I hardly even let myself think that, because thinking of potential good outcomes is a sure-fire way to get hurt. Besides, there’s no reason to expect that anything good will happen in general. Sure, it might, but it shouldn’t be expected. It’s just more likely for things to go wrong than right.

I’m home before I even notice. I enter the house, put my school supplies in my room, and go off to talk to mom.

She’s in the kitchen, preparing dinner. She’s smiling, even humming to herself as she stirs a large pot of soup. She looks up and greets me.

“Oh, hello Nagisa! You’re home!” She doesn’t smile as often as I’d like, but when she does, it has a way of lighting up the whole world.

“Yeah, I am.” I don’t even have to try to return the smile.

“How was school today?” I won’t even have to lie here.

“It was great, mom. A friend asked me if I could go to a movie with him this Saturday. Can I?” Please yes please yes please yes.

“Have you got anything else planned this Saturday?”

“No, that’s all that I’ve got planned.”

“Well, as long as it doesn’t impact your school work, I don’t see any problem with it. Just make sure you’re home before curfew, okay?”

“Sure thing, mom. Thank you so much!” I give her a quick hug, and go to my room.

I grab my phone and quickly send Karma a text letting him know I’m free on Saturday. Then I just lay down on my bed, and enjoy the feeling of something going well. Happens rare enough that I ought to enjoy it when it comes around. Thanks to this little thing, I’ve got a smile on my face, and the whole world seems just a little bit brighter.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I'm back? Yeah, I know it's been a while since the last update, but I've been swamped with work (thanks college) BUT ANYWAY I've finished up this chapter at least. I hope to write more frequently, but given my track record so far... Regardless, thanks for all the support you guys have given this piece. Every comment is like a gemstone I don't really know how to respond to, but just know that I appreciate it all, folks. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter!

            Saturday’s finally here. Not that the past week has been bad, but rather that I’ve been excited for this for a while. Since Karma invited me to the newest Sonic Ninja movie earlier in the week, things have gone smoothly. We started reading Catcher in the Rye in our English class. It’s tough because the English is non-conventional and colloquial, and that it’s English, not Japanese, but it’s still a good book. History is difficult, but rewarding, and math is still, well, math. Koro Sensei is a good teacher, but he’s not a miracle worker. I’m starting to get the hang of this unit though.

Mom’s been good this week as well. I think she’s actually a little bit happy that I’m going out with a friend, a sort of sign of her child’s normalcy. It’s the sort of thing I’m sure she wished she did more often in her youth, so of course she’s happy I’m doing it more now. Of course, I’m sure she’d be less than happy if she knew what a troublemaker Karma is.

I look at the clock for the fifth time this minute. I shouldn’t really be surprised that he’s late, but I am disappointed. The plan was for him to come by around 13:00, we’d get some food from the McRonald’s by the cinema, and then go to the movie. And here we are at 13:30, and no Karma in sight. He’s probably just running a little late, missed a train or something.

Because why else would he not be here yet? Obviously, he could’ve just slept in because he doesn’t care enough about me to make the decision to wake up earlier than he wants to. Or what’s more likely is that he’s awake and just forgot because I’m just that forgettable. Or even more likely, he remembered, but just didn’t want to hang around with me because I’m just that bothersome to be around. Why did he even offer this in the first place? I appreciated it, but why would he want to be around me? Maybe he just had a moment of pity, and felt so bad at just seeing me that he wanted to do something. But he’s not that sympathetic of a person. Odds are he’s just been playing a prank on me this whole time. Yeah, that sounds about right to me.

There’s a knocking at the door. I jump up. “I’ll get it!” I call to my mom, so she doesn’t have to leave her room. I open the door, and there he is. He’s out of breath, hair in disarray, eyes wild with excitement.

“Hey Nagisa, let me in for just a sec, okay?” and before he even lets me reply, he’s in the house and has closed the door.

“You okay Karma?” I ask.

“Yeah, just a little winded.” He says, between gasps for air.

“What were you up to?”

“Played a prank on the owner of one of the pawn shops downtown. Didn’t take kindly to it, kicked me out and started chasing me down.” His face takes on the mischievous smile, the half-grin he always has when he’s in the middle of whatever latest prank he’s pulled.

“You’re not in trouble, are you?”

“Not more than usual. I don’t think covering all the employee-only toilets with plastic wrap is a crime, but the owner sure wasn’t thrilled with it. But I think I’ve lost him now. He won’t know which house, if any, I went into.”

“So that’s why you’re late?”

“What, did you think I was late on purpose, just to spite you?”

Yes, I say to myself. Obviously, it was a dumb train of thought, but it went through my mind nonetheless. Idiot. Why can’t I get anything right? “Nah, I was just wondering.” That’s what I actually decide to say.

He looks out the window, and sighs. “There he goes. Looks like he’s lost me for sure. He’s heading back.” He turns to me. “We can probably head out whenever you’re ready. I’m good now.”

“Sounds good to me.” I keep the casual friend-hangout feel to my voice, even though I know I’ve been waiting all week for this. The chance to spend some time out of the house, away from mom. Of course, that isn’t to say I don’t love her or like to be around her. It’s just nice to have a change once in a while. “I’d better tell my mom that I’m heading out now.” I tell Karma.

“No problem. I’ll be here when you’re done.” He leans against the wall and starts fiddling with one of his many anti-Koro Sensei knives. It’s odd how seemingly dull they are, yet they’re still so effective at damaging Sensei. Those knives couldn’t cut a human, but they can damage him? It’s interesting.

I walk to my mom’s room. “Hey mom. My friend’s here, and we’re about to head out.” I’m careful not to mention his name in case she’s heard about him.

“Alright Nagisa, have a good time.” She walks up to me, hugs me tightly, kisses my forehead. “Be safe, alright? Phone home if there’s any trouble.”

“I will, mom.” I return the hug, body tense. I let go, ready to leave, and she holds me there for another moment, then she releases me. I smile, say “See you tonight!” and head out.

“So, you think this sequel’s going to measure up?” Karma asks.

“Well, I like this director. He knows the source material enough that he should honour the spirit of the series.” I respond. After a full week of putting on a mask of being fine, it’s refreshing to actually be fine. Sentences don’t get stuck in my mouth, I can speak so easily.

“Yeah, that’s fair. I just rewatched the last movie the other day so everything that happened is fresh in my memory.” Karma says.

“For me personally, I prefer not to rewatch the prior movie before the sequel. That way all the flashbacks to the last movie, and all the exposition is actually necessary for me. Otherwise that stuff kind of bores me.”

“How methodical! I wouldn’t have pinned you for that type, Nagisa.”

I shrug. “I just like to have the best possible experience. If you’re going to do something, really do it. You know?” I try to ignore how hypocritical that sentence feels to say.

“Oh, I definitely know.” He grins. He makes a little “oh” sound, and checks his phone. He looks to me. “We should probably take our food to go, wouldn’t want to be late for the screening.”

It hadn’t really occurred to me that we’d be late. I’m usually so methodical about being on time, the rush to be on time is rather foreign to me. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

It’s not long before we reach the McRonald’s. I don’t order much, for two reasons. I don’t want to spend much money, and I don’t really find myself wanting to eat all that much. Ever. It’s probably partly because I want to stay the shape my mom wants me to be. She likes my body the way it is, so I shouldn’t let it change too much. I’m used to it by now.

Of course, Karma still gets a large meal. Wouldn’t expect anything less from him. My food arrives soon, since there’s so little for them to prepare. Karma’s takes a bit longer, but it’s called fast food for a reason, so we aren’t waiting that long. As he takes his to-go bag, he checks his phone again. I was preoccupied thinking about whether I’ll be able to eat my food, hadn’t thought about the time. He puts his phone away, and as we exit the restaurant, he says with a handful of fries in his mouth, “We have to run for it.”

And then he’s off, _eating while he runs_ , doesn’t even wait for me to respond. I can appreciate that. Impulsiveness, acting on instinct, living in the moment. I don’t really have the spontaneity to do that myself, I always need some sort of push. So I follow him.

He’s so much faster than me. I’m not really surprised though. He’s bigger, stronger, a better fighter. Just makes sense. What doesn’t quite make sense though is the way he’s never too far ahead of me. He’s ahead of me, but his lead doesn’t increase. Not really sure why.

He’s probably slowing himself down so I’m not too far behind him. He’s pitying me. He’s going slow, holding himself back for my sake. Can I go one day without inconveniencing someone?

Seeing the theater building pushes the thought out of my mind. Just as I’m about to ask the cashier if I can buy a ticket, Karma hands me one. “Slowpoke. I had time to get both our tickets before you even got here.” He grins, playfully punches my shoulder. I pray he didn’t see me tense up before the impact. I know he’d never hurt me on purpose but it’s just too… familiar. Muscle memory kicked in. I just hope he didn’t notice.

“Let’s go, it’s just about to start!” At least he doesn’t act like he noticed. He practically pulls me into the screening room. We try to get seats close to the screen, but there’s already so many people there that we only get seats about the middle of the audience.

The movie’s amazing. The characterizations are on point, the action sequences are awesome, and the whole experience is so immersive. It’s like I can just spend two hours away from my own mind, and live in a world where it’s all working out in the end. After the movie ends, Karma and I are some of the only people who are still waiting after the credits. The post-credits scene is an obvious tie-in to the inevitable sequel, but it’s cool to be part of the small section of audiences that actually saw it.

As we leave Karma speaks up. “Hey Nagisa, you mind if I walk with you to your place? It’s on the way to mine, so we might as well, eh?”

It’s a nice gesture. It almost lets me believe he doesn’t mind hanging out with me. “Sure Karma” I say, and we head home.

The whole walk back he’s criticizing and analyzing the movie. It’s like he’s got a photographic memory. I end up more or less just nodding and agreeing with him when he stops for breath.

Before I know it, we’re back home. Unsure of how to end such a nice day I just say, “Thanks Karma. This was fun.”

He says “Yeah. We should totally hang out more often. This was great.” He offers a high five, which I accept. It stings, but it’s satisfying. He does a two-fingered salute, and says “See ya Nagisa!” and heads off.

“See ya!” I respond as he leaves. Entering the house, I breathe a sigh of contentment. I don’t feel like I deserve them, but a good day is still nice to have.


	6. Announcement

This is an announcement. First of all, thank you so, so much to everyone who's read this story, commented on it, and given kudos! Your support means the world to me. Unfortunately, looking at this story, I don't really feel the interest or drive I once felt. I'm not really a big part of the fandom, and while I love Assassination Classroom, as I write this, I am not interested enough in it to continue this story. In addition, a lot of this story is a product of who I was when I started writing it, and I'm not really in the same place as I was, so that's another part of my loss of drive. I also never really had much of a plan for where this story was going, and that's really necessary in a long-form piece like this. I kinda bit off more than I could chew. At the end of the day, I didn't feel motivated to write more of it, and felt guilty for not doing that thing that I didn't really want to do anymore. All that being said, I'm so glad everyone who read this fic, I'm actually rather proud of many aspects of the piece, and I hope you got something out of it! And though this fic is going on a semi-permanent hiatus, I do plan to keep writing. If you like my writing, you can check out some of my other works, but don't feel obliged. That's all for now, and thanks for understanding!


End file.
